


Bitter (Mind Control)

by Cerberusia



Series: Dark Voltron Week 2017 [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Degrading Dirty Talk, M/M, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:10:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9492749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia
Summary: He leaned forward. There was a cruel twist to his mouth. “Hey, Keith,” he said, “did they get you ready for me?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the Dark Voltron Week prompt _Mind Control_! Finished at last after RL came and interrupted my plans: I wanted to finish this off before the end of Jan, and so I have. This marks 20K words of fic published this year. Start as you mean to go on!

The walls in this place might as well be made of concrete: Keith couldn't hear a thing. He didn't have his helmet, his Bayard, or even his goddamn suit, and the Galra apparently didn't believe in heating their cells above the bare minimum to keep their prisoners from freezing to death. If anyone came in here he was going to have to fight then hand to hand in his underwear, and he didn't like his chances. 

He also didn't like that he had no idea where the other Paladins were. They'd been captured together, him and Lance and Shiro, but they'd been taken to separate cells. His hope was that Pidge and Hunk hadn't been caught too. He was probably going to have to rely on them for a rescue. There was nothing in his cell to help him: it was just six feet by six feet of smooth metal. It was dimly lit, but Keith hadn’t been able to work out where the light was coming from, much less whether he could turn the wiring to his advantage.

Without warning, the door slid open. Keith readied himself to spring.

Shiro was pushed into the cell, almost colliding with Keith, and the door immediately shut, so smooth the outline was hardly detectable. Keith hadn't even seen whoever had shoved Shiro through.

“Shiro!” He grabbed his fellow Paladin around the waist to haul him upright so he could have a look at him, see if he were injured.

He was: there was a new cut across his face, and a bruise on his jaw. He held himself as if he'd taken a hit to the stomach. He didn't look directly at Keith, but down at the floor, avoiding Keith's eyes, breathing fast as if he were sick. Worried, Keith guided him to the floor in case there was something more seriously wrong. Shiro, he noticed, had been given new clothes. He spared an ounce of worry for their suits.

“Shiro,” he said, “report.” 

Shiro raised his head. His lip was cut, and his eyes were yellow hazed. His pupils were huge.

“I'm fine,” he said. “Just a little bruised.” He leaned forward. There was a cruel twist to his mouth. “Hey, Keith,” he said, “did they get you ready for me?”

Confused, Keith didn't catch his meaning for a second: but when Shiro’s hand went to his crotch he understood. He skittered backwards, trying to put distance between himself and his leader, and stand up at the same time. Shiro followed, rising more gracefully and striding forward to trap Keith against the wall. His arms were on either side of Keith's head, preventing escape - not that there was anywhere to go. He was smirking. Keith hadn’t seen that expression on Shiro’s face since before the Kerberos mission. His eyes were bright yellow. Keith could make a guess at the significance.

“Shiro, snap out of it!” Keith shoved at Shiro’s shoulders, hard, with a force that should have made him stumble backwards. But Shiro didn't falter: it was as if he were made of stone. Keith was uncomfortably aware that Shiro was taller, broader, older and more experienced than him as he leaned in so his hot breath was on the side of Keith’s face.

“I know you want this,” he hissed in Keith's ear. “You've wanted it ever since we first met. You used to suck off all those older cadets in the showers. Did you think I didn't know?”

Keith hadn’t. He had hoped, of course, in a sad, disgusting way, that Shiro would find out and come and put his cock in Keith’s mouth too; but he had never really expected it to happen. The worst he had anticipated, should Shiro find out, was that he might be _disappointed_. That would have been awful.

This was worse.

Shiro put his hand back between Keith’s legs, feeling his crotch. _It’s just mind control,_ Keith reminded himself. This was Shiro’s body, but Shiro’s mind was clearly not in charge. Keith instinctively pressed his thighs together, but all that did was to trap Shiro’s groping hand between them. Shiro didn't stop smirking.

He went for Shiro’s neck, ready to throttle him into unconsciousness. With all Keith’s weight thrown at him this time Shiro staggered, nearly fell - but he recovered and slammed Keith back into the wall hard, one hand in the middle of his chest threatening to break the cartilage of his ribs. Keith went still. Shiro put his other hand back between his legs, sliding up through the leg hole of his underwear.

“As a loyal servant of the Galra Empire and Emperor Zarkon,” said Shiro in very even tones, “it’s only right that I should show you your place.” He sounded like he did when he was giving orders before they launched. His hand squeezed softly. “You might even enjoy it,” he added, carelessly - as if he were coaxing Keith to think harder about directing Lance through the invisible maze. His body radiated heat where he was pressed against Keith; his overwhelming presence made Keith want to close his eyes and put his head to one side, anything to stop looking directly at him. But giving this version of Shiro unfettered access to his neck was probably asking for trouble.

“You’re not Shiro, and I’m not interested,” he said through gritted teeth. Shiro smiled at him nicely.

“I am, and you should be.” And Shiro bent his head to take Keith’s mouth in a kiss, hand leaving Keith’s ribs to take hold of his chin. His lips pressed hard against Keith’s, and for a moment his tongue slipped inside to tangle with Keith’s - then retreated a millisecond before Keith had the presence of mind to bite down hard. Despite the different clothes and the glowing eyes, Shiro still smelled like himself. Keith had always found the way he smelled attractive, clean masculine sweat.

“Get off!” Keith shoved at him with all his weight again, forcing him to take a step back - but his hands came to rest on Keith’s shoulders and Keith found himself being pulled forwards into another kiss. Shiro bit at his lips and sucked fiercely at his tongue - all with his thumb jammed into the corner of Keith’s mouth, preventing him from closing his jaw until Shiro was satisfied. Keith bit down as hard as he could on that thumb, as if he were trying to bite it right off, but Shiro didn’t seem to care. He held one of Keith’s hands in his cybernetic one, tight enough to be a threat.

“I like it when you fight,” Shiro said, his mouth wet and red. The worst part was that he still _sounded_ like himself. He shifted his weight, and Keith felt his erection press into his thigh.

The blood was rushing in Keith’s ears. _There’s always a way around_ \- Shiro had taught all the Paladins that. But unless he was willing to potentially maim his leader, he couldn’t see a way around this one.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Shiro told him, and that was all the warning he got before he was pulled off the wall and thrust to his knees on the cold hard metal floor.

“No!” Keith tried to scramble away from Shiro, from the obvious erection distending his pants, from his yellow-glowing eyes.

Shiro caught him, seizing his arm in a cybernetic grip and holding it high above his head, twisting until Keith yelped in pain and sagged to the floor. With his other hand he pulled down his pants to reveal what Keith had wanted to see for years: his erect cock. Keith had seen him undressed in the showers, of course, and had known how big it was when soft; but erect it seemed huge, threatening, as if he could never hope to fit it inside him.

Shiro let go of Keith’s arm. Keith crumpled forwards, trying not to move the screaming joint. Shiro had been on the verge of dislocating his shoulder. He felt metal fingers under his chin, and his head was tilted up so he could meet Shiro’s eyes.

“If you suck it, it’ll hurt less.” Shiro’s voice held the sympathetic tone he used to impart advice for dealing with troublesome engines, embarrassing personal ailments, and vexing ethical quandaries. With his other hand he held his cock an inch from Keith’s mouth, which was open as he panted through the sparking pain. He dropped his voice: “I know you want this.” His voice was low, intimate, sexy. Then he pushed his cock into Keith’s mouth.

Keith didn’t bite. He knew he couldn’t hurt Shiro too much: once whatever was affecting him stopped (or Keith knocked him out and slung him over his shoulder), they had to escape, and they couldn’t do that if Shiro was crippled. He suspected that under the mind control Shiro knew that and was banking on it. So he didn’t bite: he relaxed his throat just as he’d done dozens of times before, and let Shiro slide his cock - red, hard, thick - into his mouth as far as it would go. He felt tears prick his eyes, and furiously blinked them away. He’d done this many times before. There was nothing to be upset about.

A big hand slid into his hair and grabbed a hank. Keith made a small, pained noise around Shiro’s dick; then he made no sounds at all as Shiro held his head still and thrust his hips again and again, fucking Keith’s mouth. Keith tried to relax, make himself an open channel, but the eye-watering grip on his hair made it difficult: his throat kept tensing. He’d never had this happen before: he always set the pace, but now Shiro didn’t pause to let him catch his breath or find a better angle, just stretched his jaw wide and raped his mouth. He wasn’t in control. The overwhelming physicality of Shiro’s dick in his mouth, using him like a sextoy, made him imagine vividly how it would feel to have that up his ass.

Before long, Shiro hauled him off by the hair. Keith overbalanced and fell backwards with a yelp, scalp throbbing in pain, his vision filled with Shiro’s huge slick erection. Then Shiro was on him, shoving him over onto his belly, grabbing his hips.

He fought, of course: he fought like an animal, uncoordinated in raw panic. He tried to flip himself, he tried to kick Shiro in the stomach, he even tried to gouge out Shiro’s eyes. But Shiro cuffed him over the head, making him see stars, and pinned his wrists and legs, stripping him of his underwear. Keith was sure he wasn’t normally this strong - or perhaps he was simply using his Galra arm to its full extent.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this,” he said lowly in Keith’s ear. He had one of Keith’s arms trapped under him in an awkward and potentially painful position, and held onto his other wrist in a cybernetic grip that threatened to crush. Keith could feel the wet tip of his penis pressing against his asshole. At least all that spit would ease the way - and then he stopped thinking coherently, because Shiro was pressing it in.

He’d never done this before, never had it done to him. For a split second, he thought _It’s just like my own fingers_ , because the weird-intimate sensation of something touching his asshole was the same - then Shiro thrust his hips forward and it was _nothing_ like his fingers. It wasn’t like _anything_.

Keith howled, shocked by the pain and the feeling of something being thrust _inside_ him. He thrashed underneath Shiro’s heavy body, but got nowhere. Blood rushed in his ears. It felt like Shiro was cramming a tree branch up his ass, impossibly huge and hard inside him.

“I used to think about doing this to you, you know. You serviced the rest of the Garrison, so why not me?” Shiro’s voice was low and cruel. It helped, somewhat, to hear that this was clearly _not_ Shiro talking. Whatever the drug, mind control, whatever was making him say, Keith didn’t want to hear it.

Shiro started fucking him then, and Keith’s thoughts dissolved. An ache spread from his hips to his stomach, and his torso crumpled to the floor. _Please, _he thought, and didn’t know what he was asking for. Shiro’s cock thrust in and out of him mercilessly, nauseatingly harsh. The cold hard floor hurt his knees. He wanted to fight, but he couldn’t think. _There’s always a way round._ Not this time, there wasn’t.__

__“You’re tight,” said Shiro in his ear, “am I your first?” He punctuated this with a particularly vicious thrust._ _

__Keith curled up tighter, pressing his forehead into the floor. It felt like Shiro was fucking his stomach, driving in further than was physically possible, battering him internally._ _

__“Knew it,” said Shiro breathlessly. His tone changed. “Sorry, I’ve been kind of rough, haven’t I?” And he slowed down, began to thrust more gently. “Is that better?” he asked. He sounded like Shiro again, all mild leaderly concern._ _

__Keith snarled. He struggled again, but still Shiro held him down easily, pinning his wrist to the floor, his body weight too much for Keith to throw off. It still hurt, but the unbearable stabbing pain was gone, transmuted into a horrible aching as his body was uncompromisingly and unwillingly opened, again and again._ _

__“Shhh, shhhh,” Shiro soothed him. “I’ll make it better.” He moved in and out, deep and slow, stroking Keith’s inner walls with his dick instead of ramming his internal organs. He kissed Keith’s shoulders, stroked his hip. How did he know that Keith thought that was so sweet and romantic? Had he guessed? Slippery with sweat, Keith’s knees spread further apart._ _

__“You’ll enjoy it,” Shiro promised, kissing and sucking at his neck as he kept up the steady pace. His iron grip on Keith’s wrist was beginning to ache. Keith’s body opened to him easily now, his dick sliding in and out. Keith hated that his body had seemingly given up when his mind hadn't, that any part of him failed to resist the assault. It didn’t hurt that much any more, but it felt _wrong_ \- the violation was the same._ _

__“See?" said Shiro. “You're hard.” Keith hadn't realised until Shiro touched him, a rough grope at his dick. Keith closed his eyes. It wasn’t — it didn’t mean anything, any more than it meant anything when he got hard when fighting in Red sometimes. But it didn’t **feel** like it meant nothing. It felt like his body was betraying him, agreeing with whatever was controlling Shiro, agreeing that he really _did_ like being raped._ _

__“You’re so quiet,” Shiro murmured, stroking his dick a little. “It’s like you want me to tell you filthy things.”_ _

__Keith had, in fact, once longed for Shiro to pin him down and growl dirty things in his ear. But that Shiro had had warm brown-black eyes, not glowing yellow ones, and his voice had been tender. He would be, Keith thought, so embarrassed when he came back to himself. Embarrassed and worse._ _

__Shiro squeezed his ass roughly, almost affectionately, before wrapping his hand - his own, flesh hand - back around Keith’s dick. Every hard thrust pushed Keith’s cock through his hand, as if he were jacking him off. Keith curled his head tighter into his folded arms, and tried to ignore it. His body was rocked back and forth, hot pressure invading him, a burning ache under his navel to all the way down his thighs. Shiro’s cock seemed huge and uncompromising inside him. He found himself gasping with every thrust, as if the air were being punched out of him._ _

__“I used to think about fucking you _just like this_ , thinking about you struggling, telling me you d-didn’t want it.” Shiro was losing his breath; Keith hoped that meant it would be over soon. “I’d make you suck my cock, then hold you down and, mm, split you open.” His thrusts were deep, and he circled his hips. His grip was tight on Keith’s cock, a tight wet channel for him, sparking something that wasn’t quite pleasure. The most awful thing Keith could think of in that moment was that he might come from it._ _

__“I saw the way you looked at me —” And then he stopped and groaned low in Keith’s ear, and Keith knew what was happening. He’d fantasised about it: Shiro letting go, losing control as he came, the way his face would scrunch up. His grip on Keith’s wrist loosened as tremors ran through him, little shocks as he emptied himself into Keith. He panted hot breath on Keith’s shoulder, his neck._ _

__“Good boy,” he said dismissively as he pulled out, giving Keith a slap on the rear in the same way you would a horse. Keith wondered, distantly, who was controlling him. What was controlling him. How they had known that would sting._ _

__He stayed where he was: ass up, face hidden in his folded arms. He wasn’t ready to open his eyes just yet. He took slow, deep breaths and took stock of how badly he was injured. His shoulder ached deeply, and the less said about his anus the better, but nothing was broken or torn. He could still escape - if only he could take Shiro._ _

__He raised his head to find Shiro staring into space. His eyes were still replaced by glowing yellow orbs, but there was something different about his posture. After a moment, Keith worked out that he was standing as he normally did, military-straight, where not-Shiro had done everything with a hint of a slouch. He had the absent look of listening to somebody else on the other end of a phone._ _

__Then he sank gracefully to the floor. His eyes - his own brown eyes, no longer glowing - stared unseeing at Keith for a long moment, then closed as he crumpled sideways. His head landed on his outflung arms, not the hard floor - lucky him._ _

__Keith didn’t need to crawl over to him to know he was out cold. He did anyway, to check his pallor and breathing and temperature. Semen spilled out of his abused hole, trickling down his thighs; he grimaced and tried to ignore it._ _

__Shiro was fine, apart from the sudden unconsciousness. He had sweated a little, and after a moment Keith wiped away a strand of white hair that had stuck to his forehead. He’d put his dick away, at least, so Keith didn’t have to do that for him. He wondered whether Shiro would remember what he’d done when he woke up; and if he didn’t, whether Keith should simply not tell him. It might be easier that way._ _

__There was no time to be upset about what had happened: Keith’s first priority was still getting the hell out of here, and it looked like it was going to be with Shiro over his shoulder rather than helping. You learnt, in the Garrison - and particularly as a Paladin of Voltron - that things happened on missions that nobody talked about afterwards. You can’t go back and make it not happen, and you can’t fix it in the present: all you can do is move on._ _

__Still: even as Keith contemplated where he could best get to the wiring in this cell, he knew that what Shiro had said to him - how he had known just what to say, truthful and painful; whether _all_ of it might have been true - would stick with him for a long time to come._ _


End file.
